


If It Means A Lot To You

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard can't handle Frank being on the road anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If It Means A Lot To You

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song [If It Means A Lot To You](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFWpYiK_qzw) by A Day To Remember.

“Is this really happening?”

Gerard looks up. He’s on the kitchen floor, surrounded by smashed plates, pots, photo frames…anything that was breakable is now in pieces, strewn across the floor of the apartment. Gerard’s leaning against the cupboards that once held cleaning chemicals, facing Frank. Frank’s just looking at him, on the floor, back against the fridge. His eyeliner is smudged and his eyes are red, just staring at Gerard with some alien emotion that Gerard’s never seen in his lover’s eyes before.

“Yeah,” Gerard croaks, and it’s so hard to speak. The screaming took it out of him. His whole body hurts, and he’s pretty sure his head is bleeding, but he doesn’t even care right now.

Frank lets out an awful sound, and Gerard has to screw his eyes closed – it’s like a choked sob, something Frank’s trying to hold down, and Gerard just can’t watch. It’s tearing him apart, what’s happening, but he doesn’t have control anymore. Neither of them do.

The silence is deafening, and Gerard isn’t sure how long they stay there, on the kitchen floor. It starts to get dark, but no one wants to move to put the lights on. 

The apartment is wrecked – not just the kitchen. The living room is a mass of broken CDs and vinyl, and the bedroom floor is littered in clothes and shoes. The fight had lasted hours, and the aftermath is just beginning.

The yelling is still ringing in Gerard’s ears and he ducks his head, planting his hands in his matted hair.

“I should go,” Frank finally speaks up, and when Gerard looks up, Frank's already getting to his feet.

“Where?” Gerard manages, and he just watches Frank stand up and dust his pants down.

“My mom's?” Frank says, but it's almost like a question, like he doesn't know what he should do. He probably doesn't, Gerard thinks. Even Gerard doesn't know.

“Yeah,” Gerard says, barely more than a whisper. He gets to his feet slowly, and pushes his hair from his face. When he pulls his hand away, he can see red – he's definitely managed to gash his head. Probably from when he and Frank were shoving at each other in the bedroom.

They just stand there, in silence yet again, not looking at each other, pretending to focus on the debris of their belongings. Five years of _them_ , just broken, smashed to pieces, like it's nothing.

“I should go,” Frank speaks up again, and Gerard nods. When he hears Frank's footsteps, Gerard follows after him, eyes still on the floor. They walk through the hallway in silence, and Gerard hangs back as Frank picks a hoodie up off the floor.

“Uh,” Frank starts, then swallows. Gerard looks up, and Frank's eyes are so red, swollen and leaking again, like it's an infection and not just from hours of tears. “I'll get Gregg...” He stops again, and just kind of nods his head. Gerard knows what he means, and he nods back – he doesn't want Frank to speak anymore. This is hard enough.

Frank just keeps nodding, and then turns back to the door. He pulls it open, and he takes just one step before he stops. Gerard's heart is thumping so loud in his ears and he feels like he can't even breathe.

Slowly, Frank puts a hand into his back pocket, then pulls out a set of keys. He looks at them for a few heartbreaking seconds before he drops them into a bowl on the table by the door. The little Stormtrooper makes a _clang_ ing sound against the glass. Frank just stares at the bowl for a second, then he turns back to Gerard. There are tears streaking down his cheeks, and Gerard has to fight back the sob that's trying to break from his throat.

“I'll never be happy again,” Frank says, and his voice is so broken, so _hurt_ , that Gerard does let out a sob, and he can feel his own eyes start to burn again.

“We can still--”

“Don't you dare say 'we can just be friends',” Frank says, and he wipes his eyes on the hoodie in his hands. “I'm not some boy that you can sway, Gerard.”

“I know,” Gerard says, and he tries to stop crying, he really does. “I know you're not.”

“This is it,” Frank says, and he takes a step closer to Gerard. “If I leave now, this is it.”

Gerard screws his eyes closed and nods. The tears burn his cheeks, and he feels like he's going to throw up. “We knew it'd happen eventually.” He whispers, then opens his eyes as he feels Frank's hand on his neck, so soft, like he's scared to touch him.

“You know you can't give me what I need,” Gerard says, and he sniffs, straightening up. “It's not fair on either of us.”

Frank sucks in his bottom lip and pulls his hand back. “But I lo--”

“I know,” Gerard says. He doesn't need to hear it again, he _knows_. “But...it's not enough.”

Frank just stares at him, then nods. He turns his back again, then he's out of the door, it slamming quietly closed behind him.

Gerard just stares at the door and the chipped paint, before he finds himself on his knees, forehead pressed to the carpet with his arms wrapped around himself, shaking.

*

Mikey's the best brother in the world. That's not something Gerard never knew before, but it's something he appreciates more than anything right now.

Gerard's on the sofa, his favourite Afghan blanket wrapped around him. There's a steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of him, but he feels too sick to even think about drinking it – Mikey knows this, of course, but he also knows that the smell is comforting.

Mikey's been over for three hours now, and he keeps insisting on tidying, even though Gerard told him not to. Every now and then he leans over the back of the sofa to ask Gerard if he needs anything, and Gerard just shakes his head. He feels terrible that Mikey's even here, doing all of this – it can't be easy on him either.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Mikey eventually asks. He's just come out of the kitchen, and there's wet patches on his knees, no doubt from wiping up all the spills on the floor. He sits on the floor in front of the television, and he's just watching Gerard with a soft expression.

Gerard just blinks and lets out a breath. “I knew it was going to happen,” is all he says.

Mikey nods. Of course he knew it was going to happen – Gerard's been crying on the phone to him for months now. Even if Frank didn't know it was coming, Mikey did, and Gerard can't even begin on how it feels to not tell your best friend that his relationship's coming to an end.

“We just...fought.” Gerard says, and he clumsily starts to sit up. He runs a hand through his hair, and it's matted from the cut on his head. “We just started yelling. I don't know how.”

Mikey just nods again.

“I can't...I can't do it anymore,” Gerard says, and he can feel the burn building in his chest again, threatening to rise in his throat. “I just can't.”

Again, Mikey just nods. Any other time this would infuriate Gerard, but even he doesn't know what Mikey could say to make him feel better. Nothing can make him feel better. Gerard's just ripped out the heart of the person he loves the most, and broken his own heart in the process – the worst part is that Gerard can't see any other solution.

Gerard's tired of feeling second best. He's tired of being left at home on his own for weeks on end, sometimes months. He's tired of not knowing which town, which _state_ Frank is in. He's tired of the promised phone calls that never come. He's tired of fighting whenever Frank's home. He's tired of feeling like he's the only person in their relationship.

“He hasn't called me,” Mikey finally says, and Gerard doesn't say anything. Mikey sighs. “I didn't expect him to...”

Mikey and Frank have been best friends since high school. They talk about everything (which has always freaked Gerard out a little). They're like brothers. This is tearing Mikey apart just as much as it is Gerard – and Gerard hates himself a little more each time he looks into Mikey's eyes.

“I'm sorry,” Gerard whispers, and Mikey just tilts his head. “I didn't want to hurt you too, I--”

“Hey,” Mikey says, and he gets to his feet, rounding the coffee table and sitting down next to his big brother. He wraps a skinny arm around Gerard's shoulders and pulls him in close. “It's okay.”

“No it's not,” Gerard sobs, and he's gone again, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I've ruined everything.”

“Shhh,” Mikey whispers and rubs Gerard's back. “You did what you had to do.”

“I couldn't do it anymore,” Gerard cries, and his head is pounding. 

Mikey nods and just keeps holding Gerard close. He knows all of this, because Gerard's been telling him all along. He can't handle the fact that the music comes first. The tours, the support slots, the broken down vans – they all mean more to Frank than anything else. Even Gerard, it seems. Mikey always says that Gerard's wrong, that _he's_ the most important thing in Frank's life, but Gerard just doesn't feel that way. 

“Five years,” Gerard whispers. “We were together for five years.”

Mikey just nods and starts to rock Gerard gently.

***

“Frank called me.”

Gerard doesn't look up from the guitar in his lap, keeps the Sharpie in his hand moving as he nods. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mikey says, and he plugs at the bass in his hands. “He's in Vegas.”

Gerard doesn't say anything. He hasn't spoken to Frank since he left – Gregg, Frank's stepdad, had came over to collect Frank's things (that Mikey had gathered up, since Gerard just couldn't), and Gerard hasn't seen or heard from Frank since. As far as Gerard knew, Frank was back home in Kearny with his mom.

“Tour?” Gerard tries to sound casual, and not like his heart is in his throat. He looks up, trying to keep his expression calm.

Mikey nods. “I think they’re supporting The Used? Or something like that.” He gives a shrug. Gerard knows Mikey speaks to Frank a lot more than he lets on, but he's not going to get mad, they're best friends.

“That's good,” Gerard nods, and he goes back to decorating his guitar. It's been three months since Frank left, since Gerard had ended it. It still hurts, so much, but Gerard still thinks he did the right thing. He doesn't feel like he's left behind as much (except when Mikey tells him what Frank's doing, like now), not as trapped. He does, however, feel a little empty at times. 

At night when he's all alone, Gerard finds he doesn't know what to do with himself. He's no longer got a phone call to wait on from Frank, or a reason to storm around pissed off when the phone call doesn't come. He doesn't have a warm body in the bed next to him, and jacking off just isn't as fun as it used to be.

So that's why Gerard's sitting with a guitar in his lap now. Mikey'd shown up one night with his bass on his back and Gerard's old guitar from his college days and decided they were having a jamming session. Gerard had humphed and hawed the first few times, but now he's found he quite looks forward to it. Gerard's been in love with music his whole life, but he'd never realised how...how _mending_ it is. Every time he sits down with that piece of wood with strings, he can feel the pain, the anger, the _suppression_ , just pour out of him. And Gerard knows he sounds terrible, he knows he can't play for shit, but it doesn't matter, because it makes him feel better than before.

“You should sing more,” Mikey says later that night. They're attempting a Morrissey cover, and Gerard's playing as badly as he always does, but he'd tried to sing a few bars, nothing big.

“Shut up,” Gerard says, laughing.

“No, seriously,” Mikey says, and he stops playing. Gerard stops as well, and he raises his eyebrows and just stares at his little brother. “You sound really good, Gee.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “You have to say that.”

“No I don't,” Mikey says, and he points a finger at him. “When I thought that comic idea about the robot mouse was stupid, I told you. I tell you when you suck.”

Gerard makes a face (he'd thought the robot mouse was _awesome_ ), but Mikey does have a point. He's always honest with Gerard, even if Gerard doesn't like his opinion.

“Whatever,” Gerard shrugs, and starts playing again.

***

Gerard's going to be sick. There's no doubt about it. His stomach is turning uncomfortably and he's itching for a drink, but he's already had at least five whiskeys, and his mom is out there, he can't let himself get _too_ wasted.

Gerard looks up and watches as Toro messes around with his guitar, fine tuning it, head bobbing slightly. He doesn't look nervous, at least, not as nervous as Gerard. As if he knows he's being watched, Ray looks up and gives Gerard a small smile. “You okay, bro?”

Gerard tries to smile without his cheeks shaking and nods. “I'm good.”

There's a loud laugh and Gerard turns his head to see Mikey and Otter laughing at something as they carry in Otter's kit. Gerard doesn't understand how everyone can be so calm about their first show when he's about to soil his lucky underwear.

Gerard still doesn't even know how he ended up here. Jamming with Mikey somehow ended up as jamming in Otter's attic, then that somehow turned into getting Ray Toro from Gerard's old neighbourhood in on guitar (because Gerard was just _terrible_ ). And now they're about to play their first show and Gerard's about to start crying.

Of course he tries to not let on how scared he is, and he ends up fighting his way out of the backstage area and into the crowd to the bar. One more drink won't hurt, right?

At the bar, Gerard finds himself staring at a t-shirt some girl with a green mohawk is wearing. He stares at it for a ridiculous amount of time before he gets a feeling in his stomach that's ever so slightly akin to a kick in the balls. 

The girl gives him a strange look before walking away with a friend, and Gerard quickly downs his drink then fights his way back to where his band are waiting backstage.

“You little shit,” Gerard says, and he grabs Mikey's arm. He's sweating, and he's most definitely going to puke at some point. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Mikey says, and he pushes Gerard off. Toro and Otter are staring at them both confused.

“Who else is playing tonight!” Gerard flails his arms clumsily.

Mikey just shrugs. “Some local bands.”

Gerard covers his face with his hands. “Fucking _Pencey Prep_ , you little asshole.”

He can practically hear Mikey shrug again. “They're local.”

This isn't happening, Gerard thinks. The night has suddenly got even worse. They're supporting Pencey Fucking Prep. And Mikey didn't think to mention it. Well.

“You should have told me,” Gerard groans, and he leans back against the wall.

“I didn't know until last week,” Mikey says. “They only just got added.”

“So?” Gerard's still got his hands over his face. “You should have told he'd be here.”

Mikey sighs, and he pulls Gerard's hands away. “Gee, it's been nine months.”

Gerard bites his bottom lip and doesn't say anything. He knows Mikey's right. Hell, he hasn't even thought about Frank lately – well, not as often as he used to. Lately his mind's been focused on the band, on working up the courage to quit his job. It's been a tough few months, and if it hadn't been for his music, well, Gerard's not sure he'd be standing here right now.

*

Gerard throws up right before they get called on stage. Someone tells him he's got five minutes, and he rushes to the nearest wastebasket. It's gross and smells of whiskey, but he feels better afterwards. Not more confident or calmer, but he's sure he won't throw up on stage now.

When they do get called on stage, Gerard's the last to walk on. Mikey's already fixing his guitar strap, and Ray's leaning over the drum kit to talk to Otter. Gerard just swallows and makes his way to the microphone in the centre of the stage. The crowd's still a little noisy from the break between bands, and Gerard just waits until Ray nods at him.

He doesn't say anything before they launch into Sorrows, and Gerard just grips the microphone tightly as he waits for his cue. His eyes are on the crowd, and it's not until he starts to sing that he sees what he's looking for.

At the back of the room, standing above the rest of the crowd, is the smallest guy in the room.

Frank's obviously standing on a chair, and his hair is completely different from the last time Gerard saw him. He's got a beer in one hand and his eyes are open wide, staring in disbelief as Gerard screams into the microphone. 

That's the only time Gerard looks at him, and he tries to just focus on the crowd that's pushing to the front of the stage for the rest of the twenty minutes he's on stage.

*

“My Chemical Romance, huh?”

Gerard doesn't look up from the curb he's sitting on. He knows that voice – it's not like he'll ever forget it.

A few seconds later, Frank sits down next to him. Gerard still doesn't look at him, just stares at the ground and the beer bottle in his hand.

“Cool name,” Frank says. 

Gerard nods. “Mikey came up with it.”

“Thought so,” Frank says.

They're silent for the longest, most awkward time before Frank says, “Kinda thought he'd tell me you were in the band.”

Gerard frowns and finally looks up. “What?” He asks, and he tries not to swallow as he looks into Frank's face. He looks the same, even if he does have some strange, orange faux hawk-thing going on.

Frank smiles. “I knew his band was playing but he never said you were the singer,” he hangs his head and laughs a little. “You sounded awesome up there.”

Gerard bites his bottom lip as Frank looks back up. “And I thought you only sang in the shower.”

Gerard can't help but smile. “Yeah, me too.”

“The things MikeyWay makes you do, huh?” Frank offers.

Gerard breathes out. “Actually, the band was my idea.”

Frank's eyes flash a little. “Really?”

Gerard nods. “Yeah, I'm just as surprised.”

Frank chews the inside of his cheek and stares down at the ground. Gerard can see a tattoo peeking out from the collar of his polo shirt – a scorpion, he thinks. He smiles, but doesn't say anything.

“How've you been?” Frank asks, and Gerard resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's such a generic question to ask.

“Okay,” Gerard says, and he takes a sip from his bottle. “Getting there, I guess,” he turns his head. “You?”

Frank nods. “Good.”

There's a sound of shouting and laughing inside, and Gerard turns his head to look at the back door. “You're on soon.”

“Yeah,” Frank says with a sigh, and Gerard frowns.

“You don't sound happy about that...you okay, dude?”

Frank gives a sad laugh. “Yeah, I just...don't think I'm ready to go on yet, that's all.”

This time Gerard laughs, and he nudges Frank's shoulder, ignoring the twist of his stomach. “You? Scared to go on? Come on, you live for this.”

Frank looks up, and his eyes look sad, even though he's smiling. “I do.” He nods.

Gerard's eyebrows screw together. “What's wrong?”

Frank just smiles and shakes his head. “It's our last show.” He stretches his arms up then brings them down to wrap around his torso. “I just don't think I'm ready for it.”

“You're...the band's...you're breaking up?” Gerard can't believe what he's hearing. 

“Yeah,” Frank nods. “The guys...they think it's time, you know?”

“And you don't?”

Frank doesn't even hesitate to shake his head. “Music's my life,” he says, and Gerard just stares at him – yeah, he knows that. He lost Frank because of Pencey Prep, in a way. 

“I'm sorry,” Gerard says.

“No you're not,” Frank laughs, and Gerard looks up at him. “Come on, man,” Frank says, and he's got a soft smile on, one that shows his little pointed eye teeth. “You hated my band.”

“I did not!” Gerard defends. “I loved Pencey, I just hated...” He stops, and Frank's not smiling anymore. 

They both just stare at the ground again, silent. Gerard picks at the label on his bottle.

“I get it now,” Gerard says. “The music thing.”

Frank frowns and turns his head. “What?”

“How it makes you feel. I know how happy it makes you, and I didn't get that.” Gerard closes his eyes then opens them again. He turns his head and looks back at Frank. “I used to think Pencey meant more to you than I did, but I know that's not true now. It's a different...it's a different kind of love. Music, I mean.” He takes a pause, then says, “I get why you couldn't give it up.” It's not an apology, not really. 

Frank blinks a few times, then nods. “Well, looks like I'm giving up now.” He gets to his feet and Gerard follows.

“You can get another band,” Gerard says. “Just...just 'cause Pencey's over, doesn't mean you are.”

Frank laughs sadly and faces Gerard. “Start again?”

Gerard nods.

Frank shakes his head. “I don't think I can, you know? I put everything into Pencey...and I lost a lot because of it.” He bites his lip and stares at the ground. “I don't think I can do that again.” Frank lets out a sigh and stretches again, before he sets his face into a smile. “Guess I better get out there.”

He turns to make his way inside the building, and Gerard finds himself reaching out to grab his arm. Frank looks down at his hand then back up at Gerard.

“You're okay, right?” Gerard asks, and his heart is racing and his stomach is churning. 

Frank smiles. “I'll be fine, Gee. Honest.” He tries to move but Gerard keeps holding on. “Gerard?”

There's nine months of hurt, and sleepless nights, and longing just swirling around in Gerard's chest, and he doesn't even know what to do, so he just stands there, holding onto Frank's arm and doesn't let go.

“Gerard?” Frank asks, and he steps closer, prying Gerard's hand off – but he doesn't let go, he keeps holding Gerard's hand. 

“Get a drink with me?” Gerard finally manages, and Frank's eyes widen a little. “Coffee. Soda. Whatever.”

Frank just stares at him for a second, before he steps a little closer, and he gives Gerard's hand a squeeze. “Are you sure?”

Gerard swallows and nods. “Yeah.” It's almost a whisper.

Frank doesn't say anything, just watches him, still holding onto Gerard's hand tightly.

The back door swings open, and they both turn to see Mikey and Hambone standing there. Mikey doesn't say anything, doesn't even change his expression, but Hambone's eyes kind of narrow at Gerard.

“I better go,” Frank says, and he lets go of Gerard's hand. “See you out there?”

Gerard nods, and Frank gives him the smallest smile before he shoves Hambone in the door and bumps fists with Mikey. When they're gone, Mikey turns to Gerard. “You okay?”

Gerard just swallows and nods, before he ushers Mikey inside.

*

It's hard, watching Frank on stage. He's singing songs Gerard's never heard before, and there's a sadness in his eyes as he does so. There's an aching in Gerard's chest, and it's not until it's halfway through the set that he realises _why_ – Pencey are _over_ , and Gerard's band has just begun. It's bittersweet, Gerard thinks – the reason that he and Frank broke up is coming to an end, whilst Gerard's only just beginning his own journey. Now _he's_ going to be the one touring (he hopes, anyway), playing to a different crowd every night, forgetting to call his mom when he's on the road. He's excited by it, can't wait – and that's what's hurting. He understands how Frank felt now, and...he can't blame him. For so long he blamed everything on Frank, on Pencey Prep, on the gigs, the tours, the missed phone calls. 

As Frank thrashes around the stage, Mikey steps up next to Gerard. “He misses you,” he says into his ear, and Gerard doesn't say anything. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you he'd be here.”

“You never told him _I'd_ be here,” Gerard replies, and he looks at his little brother.

Mikey shrugs. “I'm sorry.”

Gerard shakes his head. “It's fine,” he says, then turns back to the stage.

“You know they're breaking up?” Mikey asks, and Gerard nods.

“Frank told me.”

“You think you'll give him—”

“Mikey,” Gerard says, and Mikey just nods, turning back to the stage.

Gerard can't take his eyes off Frank, and there's just something eating away at him – Frank was born to be on stage, Gerard knows that now. He doesn't...he doesn't regret ending things, because he still believes that, at the time, it was for the best. It didn't mean that Gerard had stopped loving him – that's why it hurt so bad. He was breaking his own heart, doing what he did, but he _had_ to.

“You okay?” Mikey leans into Gerard's ear.

“Yeah,” Gerard says, and that's all he can say.

*

Gerard's sitting at the empty bar when Frank's comes out of the backstage area with his guitar bag on his back. He pauses when he sees Gerard sitting on a stool, just waiting for him. His eyes look red and a little swollen, and Gerard's stomach jolts.

“I hope that's for me,” Frank says as he reaches Gerard, and he nods at the beer bottle next to Gerard's.

“Yup,” Gerard says softly. He watches Frank set his guitar down against the bar and climb up onto the stool. “You okay?”

Frank takes a long swallow of his beer and nods. “I'm good,” he says, not looking up. His breathing is shallow, and his shoulders are shaking slightly.

Gerard just watches him for a few seconds, before he leans forward and pulls Frank against his chest. He half expects Frank to fight him off, but he doesn't – he goes willingly, and lets his face sink into Gerard's shirt.

Frank cries against Gerard's chest so freely that Gerard can't help but shed a few tears of his own. He's not sure if it's the fact he's got Frank in his arms, the fact Frank's hurting, or the fact that he can think clearly for the first time in months. Maybe it's a little of all three.

“I'm sorry,” Frank says after a few minutes, pulling back and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. 

“Hey,” Gerard says, and he reaches out to touch Frank's chin. “Don't apologise.”

Frank sniffs, and just stares at Gerard. “Thanks. For this.”

Gerard shakes his head, then jumps off the stool. He grabs Frank's guitar and slings it over his shoulder. “Come on,” he says, and he holds his hand out to help Frank off the stool.

“Huh?” Frank asks, climbing down.

“We're gonna give Pencey a proper funeral,” Gerard says, and he pulls Frank closer, throwing an arm around his neck. “Now it's time for the wake – drinks are on me!”

Frank laughs and wipes his eyes again, then looks up at Gerard. “You don't have--”

“I want to,” Gerard says, and he presses a kiss to the top of Frank's head.

Frank closes his eyes, and he lets himself lean against Gerard as they walk. “Thanks, Gee.”

Gerard doesn't say anything else, just leads Frank out of the club, trying to hold onto the little light that seems to be burning in his chest.


End file.
